Nana

Not an easy one to nail, Nana. 
The second she becomes aware of a lens pointed her way, she no longer looks like herself. 

Very hard to nail.

But still easier to photograph than my Dad, who died 25 years ago today. 

I am not good with anniversaries. And was rather sheepish when I realised that it is a quarter of a century since my dad lost his battle against lung cancer. 

I am not good at commemorating because I think I am still mostly mad at him for dying so young. 

My brother is better at denying denial. He remembers. 
Today, he took my Dad's old Robuste 12 gauge shotgun, and went shooting in Pepe Jean-Claude's favourite spot. 

The distressed relatives of four or five snipes and one hare really wish he weren't such a sentimental person...